Wicked Liar by Faith Summers

Chapter Fifteen

Candace

Although the encounter with Dominic left an awkward tension in the air, Jacques and I carry on a light conversation in the back of his limo.

I wasn't expecting the limo. I thought we'd just venture into town or one of the nearby coffeehouses.

When the limo branches off the road and we head toward Bel Air, my nerves spike and I know he has other plans in mind for me.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"You will see, mademoiselle." He gives me a lopsided grin that does nothing to soothe me.

As we proceed down the road the scenery changes to state-of-the-art mansions and million-dollar homes.

When we pull up in front of a mammoth-sized gate that opens for us, my suspicions are confirmed and so are my fears. I’m at Jacques Belmont’s home.

"Your house?" I ask, trying to tamp down my nerves.

"My home. Relax, I don't plan on showing you the bedroom just yet." He winks at me.

"What do you plan on showing me?"

"The scenery," he answers, brushing a finger over my cheek.

We drive down a long driveway and the vision of his house is the kind to make you want to stare forever. Like most houses in this area, his is beautiful and carries that cosmopolitan edge.

When we come to a stop a butler comes out to greet us and Jacques ushers me into his lavish home where we walk down a long elegant corridor with endless chandeliers and gold and cream walls. We end up outside on a grand terrace where a table has been set with a continental feast. In the center is a bottle of expensive wine, a decanter, and two wine glasses.

"This is beautiful," I muse. I look from the table to the scenery before us and find myself getting lost in it.

When I return my gaze to Jacques his smile brightens. It's a smile that belongs to a man in charge. One who’s taking back the control I thought I had. He’s taken it back by luring me into his home, no doubt with the hope of doing the same for his bed.

"I'm glad you like it."

"I do, I just wish I knew I was coming here." I can't help it. I'm going to admit right now that I don't trust him, so it's going to be hard to relax.

“Mademoiselle Ricci, you can’t blame a guy for trying. We never said where we’d meet. So I took advantage. Please sit.”

He motions for me to sit in the seat opposite his so I do.

As soon as I sit a waiter comes out to pour our drinks then Jacques tells him we’re okay for the moment, which I take to mean he’s not to come back out until he’s sent for.

When the man leaves my awareness increases.

I’m all alone with Jacques doing something I wouldn’t do on the regular let alone with a man I really don’t trust. I suppose though that if I’m going to be selling myself to him for thirty days and thirty nights I’m going to be here a lot. Unless if he plans to keep me in a hotel or something.

“You have a beautiful home,” I compliment.

“I’m glad you like it,” he answers, sitting back against his chair. “I always have a home where I work.”

“Everywhere?”

“Everywhere and they all look like this.”

“I believe you.”

He laughs. “What can I say? I’m a man who likes good things. Exquisite, sophisticated, delicious-looking things.” He stares at me like he wants to eat me as much as he does the meal.

“You think your house is delicious?”

“You make it delicious Miss Ricci.”

I take my fork and pierce one of the cherry tomatoes in the salad. My gaze flicks from my bowl to him, while he keeps his eyes trained on me.

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to say thanks to that.” I chuckle nervously really wishing I wasn’t here. It’s definitely throwing me off and I’m already off kilter from my encounter with Dominic.

“Say nothing. It was a statement of fact. My facts. Thank you for coming to lunch. I did think somewhere nice was in order and it’s a nice day. I always eat out here every chance I get. Reminds me of France.”

“Where in France? I can imagine you going everywhere.”

“You’re right, but I love the vineyards in Provence, one of which I own and started from scratch. It’s everything you would imagine. Rolling hills and a beautiful landscape.”

“That sounds amazing.” I smile.

“It is. Please eat. Don’t let me stop you I just see it as a win for me to have you in my home. Thought I’d give you a taste of where you’ll be from next week onwards.” He raises his glass to me and I do the same.

We eat and the minutes go by. I talk about Italy to fill the silent awkwardness, but Jacques can tell something is off with me.

“You are the most interesting creature I’ve ever come across,” he states after I finish talking about my degree.

“Really?”

“Yes. I guess I figured after a degree of that nature you’d become a teacher, but you seem quite content to work for Massimo.”

“I am. I think I started out wanting to be a teacher. I love reading classic fiction and poetry but I didn’t have the knack for teaching.” It wasn’t that. In fact, I’m not sure what it was.

I think it was something to do with not quite knowing what I wanted to do in life. Like most people, I went to college at eighteen. That was only three years after my parents’ deaths. I was still a mess. I only started to truly get better when I left college.

“I suppose when you know people like the D’Agostinos you’re sorted for life.” Something flashes in his eyes that I can’t quite identify. It makes me think he’s fishing for information. I’m not sure though.

“They’ve been good to me.”

“I had people who were good to me too,” he states and of course the first thing that comes to my mind is Richard Fenmoir and that twenty million dollar deposit. That was one good deed I’m very interested in.

“Like who?” I try for casual. “I always imagine Jacques Belmont as a giant who doesn’t need people to be good to him.”

I wish I could ask. I wish I could come right out and ask him what I want. I just need to know more about Richard Fenmoir. Did he order my parent’s deaths? Was it him?

Who knows what box of evil I’d be opening if I were to ask? And asking here in Jacques' home might not be a good idea.

I guess if I think that then maybe I don't quite believe he's not dangerous.

“Family,” Jacques replies quashing my hopes along with that brainstorm.

“That’s good. The D’Agostinos are like family to me.”

“Family. That’s interesting. So you’ve never been involved with any of them?”

He is fishing and I won’t make the mistake of thinking he doesn’t already know the answer to that question.

“Why? Why would you ask me that?”

“I heard a thing or two about Dominic D’Agostino. Sources said you were close before he departed. I’m just trying to make sure I don’t stick my hand in another man’s girl.” He means that quite literally. “And not one I’m doing business with.”

I hope like hell I don’t look like the guilt I feel.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” I lie and I think I do a damn good job of convincing him because of the smirk I add to compliment the act.

“I surely hope not.” The flicker of darkness in his eyes is like a warning I need to heed.

“Of course. I just work for the D’Agostinos.”

“See that’s the other thing. You’re close and you work for them, so it baffles me why you might need the kind of money a human auction would bring,” he says and my chest tightens.

“What?” I keep my gaze on him.

“I’m no fool, Candace. A woman like you wouldn’t enter an auction like that for fun.”

I laugh, and the sound throws him. “Actually I am,” I say. “You’re right. A woman like me doesn’t do events like that, but sometimes it’s time for a change. I don’t need the money. It’s just something different.”

One look at those narrowed eyes and I can tell he doesn’t believe me.

He leans forward and suddenly his warm hand rests on my thigh inching up and up, and up until he grazes over the lace of my panties.

I stare back at him expressionless, like he isn’t terrifying me.

“You know what? I don’t fucking care," he husks in a deeper voice. "Doesn’t matter what you’re up to. I just want to fuck you and I always get what I want. Now that you’ve got me hooked Miss Ricci, you’re going to play the rest of this game by my rules. You want me to bid on you? That’s obvious. What I don’t know is why. And I don’t care. I’ve had my eye on you since we first said hello. But I want to see what’s on show first before I make any form of bid.”

My God… What the hell is this now?

The color drains from my cheeks and my blood heats at his words. His words set me right back to being Candace the housekeeper. The little servant girl who didn’t really have a spine.

Warning bells ring through my mind like church bells beckoning worshippers to Sunday service. What I'm seeing and hearing is the fire I knew I was playing with, and I'm about to get burned if I don't think on my feet.

“What do you mean?”

I couldn't be more mortified when he reaches out and cups my left breast, squeezing softly.

“Show me, now.” His eyes become stone, flat, hard… dangerous. “If you want me to bid on you, let me see what's on show now. Get those tits out for me.”

I can barely breathe let alone mask my desperation, and desperate is what I am. The worse thing I could do is let him see. I was raised with a bunch of boys and they were no ordinary boys so I know not to do as I’m told in situations like these.

“No,” I reply and the shock that fills his face is classic. He drops his hand from my breast and moves the other from my thigh.

I stand and glare at him, literally thinking on my feet. Tell a man like him he can’t have something and he’ll want it even more.

“Don’t bother to bid on me. Clearly, I was mistaken about you.” I take a few steps away from the table praying what I just did was right, and I didn’t just fuck things up.

“I’m going to bid,” he calls out and I stop in my tracks. I glance at him over my shoulder. “I’m going to bid and I’ll win. Then I’ll enjoy watching you do as you’re told. I'll own you after that auction, and nothing will be off-limits. All the waiting and the games, you’ll make that up to me with that pretty mouth of yours on my cock. And whatever it is you want from me… you’ll work for it, Mademoiselle.”

I don’t answer. I just stare then walk away.

When I get away from his penetrating eyes instinct makes me want to run. When I reach the front of the house I’m hit with the question of what I’m doing.

What am I really doing?

This man is out of my league. He was serious.